


Of Golden Hearted Vigilantes

by MoonlitPaladin (MoonlitStardust)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Good boys doing good things, M/M, Post-Mission Spies, Shiro is Tired™, brief mention of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-20 15:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlitStardust/pseuds/MoonlitPaladin
Summary: After a rough mission, Shiro and Lance enjoy a moment together.





	Of Golden Hearted Vigilantes

“It’s bad practice to hold onto the mission anxiety, Shiro; You’ve checked the side streets like, what, ten times since we’ve been back? I’ve triple checked the street cams and nothing has come over the wire- We’re clean.”

Shiro squinted through the glass, probing the darkness for any vehicle or passerby that felt out of place. It was difficult to make out much of anything through the pale green of the tinted warehouse windows, but there was nothing to reflect the streetlights, or the gaudy multicolored Christmas lights from the bodega next door, back at him; it was deserted and there were no cars in the alley. His nerves were still buzzing with the lingering ghost of adrenaline but pacing a path through the concrete hadn’t earned him anything beyond aching feet. 

Turning away from the looming window panes, Shiro focused his attention on his partner.

“Bad practice, is it? Well, it’s probably poor etiquette to wear jewels you’ve just stolen.”

Lance was watching him with a raised brow as he absently fingered his shiny, new, collar, “tell me they don’t look perfect on me.”

Shiro rolled his eyes as he crossed to him, “you already know they look perfect on you.”

“Mmmhm, but I like it when you say it.”

With a wry smile, he dropped to one knee beside the couch so that he could be level with his lover. Sultry blue eyes gazed up at him through a curtain of dark lashes and Lance’s lips curled into a seductive, feline, smile when Shiro reached out to graze his knuckles over his cheek. His fingertips ghosted across his jaw and down the slender column of his throat where an elegant arrangement of rose colored gems, set with diamonds amidst ornate filigree, glittered against the bronze of his skin. 

As much as he wanted to enjoy the view, Shiro found his mind wandering a few hours backward. The nerves that he’d tried to dampen reignited as memories of their activities replayed behind his eyes.

“You, and the cache, look lovely,” Shiro told him, setting his jaw and swallowing hard against a burning discomfort, “but you scared me half to death tonight.”

Lance’s expression softened and he turned his body towards him, shifting to his side so that he could lean forward and press the barest kiss to Shiro’s lips. His collar gave off a tinny clink with the movement, like a windchime around his throat.

“We couldn’t leave empty handed,” he reminded him quietly, tilting his head just so, “you know that.”

Shiro’s hand fled down to the bandaging that covered Lance’s right arm from his elbow to his wrist. There was a faint coloring visible through the layers; they would have to change them again soon. 

“I know that we made a promise, but I won’t risk you to fulfill it. We were too damn close tonight, and you took one hell of a risk. You know the rule is to abort when the intel is bad.”

Lance gave a halfhearted shrug, “some causes are bigger than us, Robin Hood. If the intel is bad, you work with what you know and what you’ve learned. Sure, we were too late to grab the books, but we still needed to make them worry that someone was targeting them. If I hadn’t grabbed the necklace, they wouldn’t have any reason to suspect that they were hit by professionals. Nobody outside of the organization knew that they had hit a museum transport, so now they’ll think it was personal. My way, they hire a little extra help and that gives us the opportunity to slip Keith and Allura inside under their cover IDs.”

Lance forced himself upright, wincing when he accidentally braced with his injured arm out of habit, “if we hadn’t done it this way, we would’ve had to go in with a physical approach and you said you didn’t want any violence.”

Shiro’s throat felt tight as he remembered their narrow escape, picturing the wound that stretched across his Lance’s arm beneath the bandaging.

“I mean it, Lance,” he murmured, his hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him forward so that he could touch their foreheads gently together, making it so that Lance couldn’t look away from him, “you risked the op over a reckless decision. Even if we go with your thought, how the hell are they going to think they were hit by a professional when you left a blood trail?”

“It wasn’t like I bled through the house. My blood trail is through the woods beyond the fenceline, I doubt that they’re going to be looking all the way out there. They’re going to be too busy looking for this beauty to notice that I made a mess trying to get over that stupid gate. These guys are thugs and bureaucrats, not bloodhounds. I didn’t risk the op, I saved it.” 

Shiro sighed, a long, winding sound that had Lance’s lips pursing as he pulled back. It wasn’t the first time that one of them had earned a souvenir from their work and he knew it wouldn’t be the last, but it had been a special kind of hell to witness.

“Come with me,” Shiro rasped, fighting against the slideshow of the night's events that threatened to continue playing behind his eyes. He didn’t want to see it anymore, he only wanted the security of holding him in his arms. 

Lance didn’t question him. Taking his outstretched hand, he let Shiro help him to his feet and unclasp the jewelry from around his throat before leading him back to their bedroom. A Christmas tree lit the corner it stood in, boughs heavy with handmade ornaments and photos, thanks from the people they’d helped. The white lights of the tree left the bedroom cloaked in a soft glow as Shiro shut the door behind him before crossing.

Shiro pulled back the covers, waiting until Lance was comfortably situated, and the necklace was in the safe, before he joined him. The weariness came crashing down upon him the moment he stretched his body out on the mattress, the tensing adrenaline finally vacating his muscles to leave behind only aching fatigue. Despite the effort it took just to move, Shiro carefully gathered his lover in his arms. The feel of his body pressed close, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the slight whiff of grapefruit from his shampoo, the little sigh he loosed every time they were lost in one another's arms- All of it reminded him how precious those moments were.

“I’m right here,” Lance murmured when he brushed back his bangs and kissed his forehead, “it’s okay; I’m okay.”

  


“I know, I just need to hold you for a little while.”

  


“You can hold me forever.”

  


God, but he wanted to. If there wasn’t always another job, some new dilemma, the only place he’d want to be was by his side. Maybe there was a beach off the grid somewhere, lathered in sand, sun, and surf, waiting for the day they were no longer needed. In his dreams, that place always called to him and, one day, they’d have it. If he had to crawl through yards of broken glass and scale the Eiffel tower to get them there, he would.

They were quiet for several long moments, each soaking in the reassuring touch of the other. 

“Takashi?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember Christmas eve on the beach in Tyrna?”

A rogue smile overtook his melancholy, “Of course I do.”

As if he could forget. Two years prior, almost to the day, they’d been on their backs under a star-studded night sky, a salty sea breeze enveloping them. Their friends had been there as well, spread over various blankets on either side of them and sharing in the warmth of companionship. Shiro could still smell food stalls a little ways from their position, and feel the tentative squeeze of Lance's hand. Every touch had been like a current, every look like a spark, and he'd been half-drunk on Moscato and Lance. Laughter had filled the night air, snippets of conversation weaving their way around a pair who had no focus for anything that wasn't one another. He smiled when he recalled his pulse stampeding in his ears, so loud that it had drowned out the crashing of the sea behind them when Lance had offered his heart, trusting that he would treat it gently. 

“That was the first time you told me that you loved me.”

Oh, he remembered that too. He’d fallen in love with him a year before, but hadn’t found the right moment to profess his feelings. The right moment, it turned out, had been when Lance was bathed in starlight, his feet still covered in sand from their barefoot stroll, his hand in Shiro’s. 

“I’d been in love with you a while before that night,” Shiro confided, placing another kiss to his forehead, “I’d just been looking for the right time to say it.”

“It was perfect, y’know? I think about it a lot, but especially near Christmas. It’s my favorite memory.”

Lance nuzzled closer and Shiro sighed happily, “it’s mine too.”

“You know what a close second is?”

“Hmm?”

“When Matt accused you of telling me on a holiday so that you didn’t actually have to buy me a present and then Katie slung a handful of sand at him.”

Shiro chuckled, “I seem to remember Keith catching some of that sand and promising to bury both of them up to their chins and leave them for high tide.”

“That was a great night,” Lance grinned, “I want to do that again.”

“I’ll talk to Keith when we go over the next stage and fence your new goodie; I’ll make it happen.”

“See, you are perfect! I love that idea and you.”

Softly, sweetly, those words wrapped around him like armor, leaving him feeling invincible. 

“I love you, too.”

Lance tilted his face up, that beautiful, loving, smile spreading across his lips as he looked up at him. Shiro imprinted the visage in his mind and squared it away, protecting it, savoring it just as he did him. He was looking at him, only at him. The lull in their quiet conversation was filled with the comforting symphony of light rain on a patchy tin roof and the pair just listened for a little while before Lance spoke again.

“Thanks for looking after me tonight, Robin Hood.”

“Always,” Shiro hummed, fingertips skating abstract patterns along Lance’s spine, “thank you for managing to finish the job while I was busy having a heart attack. You make me look bad when you’re the one who turns out to be good under pressure.”

“I’m an absolute delight and you could all take some lessons. Really though, are you upset that I kept going for the cache?”

“No, love, I’m busy being thankful that you’re safe. Later, when I don’t have to look at your arm bleeding through gauze, I’ll have time to be upset.”

“I just... I share your dream and I couldn’t let us leave without doing my best to finish our work. We can make a difference and it’s important to me that we do.”

“...You were really taken by those kids, huh?”

“They were so cute, Takashi, and so small. I don't want anything to happen to them, I want to know they’re going to be okay.”

Shiro glanced back towards the Christmas tree, towards the misshapen candy canes made of beads and the polaroids of the pair of them with gap-toothed children. It was poor practice to display personal effects in a place they’d be vacating before the week was up, but it made the cold space feel a little warmer. 

“They swarmed you,” he laughed, remembering the surprise on his partner’s face when twenty children had piled around him, all talking at once while only half of them had made any sense. 

Lance had been taken by them, by their easy affections and friendship; he’d cried on the way home, his head leaned against the passenger side window, though he’d pawned it off as allergies when Shiro had asked. Lance remained mostly neutral during their assignments, but children always got to him. Their agency might consider that a weakness if they knew, but it made Shiro worry less for him; after all they’d done, all they’d have to do, he was still just as warm, as caring, as he’d ever been. 

“They’re good kids, they don’t deserve to be caught up in this crap. What kind of monsters use orphans as photo ops and then torch their orphanages when they don’t give in to their ‘protection’ rackets? They’re lucky that I didn’t bring Keith or it wouldn’t have been my blood all over the place. I can’t wait until Allura and Keith take care of these targets so we can hit the next ones.”

Lance’s muscles stiffened under Shiro’s hands as he spoke, a snarl baring his teeth, and Shiro shook his head, patting his back, “calm down or you’re going to get yourself worked up.”

He took a few deep breaths and forced his muscles to relax, “I know. We just have to keep hitting the upper rungs where it hurts so the rest of the team can put them in their place.”

“Exactly.”

They’d made a difference already. Their existence was whispered, their shadows around every corner to those who had reason to fear them. The pillars of corrupt empires, built on the backs of the helpless and weak, were being chipped away little by little. The fear of the few was hope for the many, a hope that their team sought to strengthen. Whether it was protecting a series of orphanages, disrupting arms deals, or standing on the forefront of political shadow wars, their job was always the safety of those who couldn’t safeguard themselves. At the end of the day, that was what let Shiro sleep soundly. 

“I’d like to go see those kids again, sometime; they make me think of home.”

“We have to lay low until your wound heals, but after that maybe we can go see them one more time before the next job.”

“I need to find them gifts,” Lance murmured sleepily, heavy lids falling while he yawned, “toys or books or something.”

“Mmmhmm,” Shiro leaned down to press a gentle kiss against his lover’s lips, raising his hand to push the bangs from his closing eyes, “whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want? Then don’t let me go until I fall asleep.”

His chuckle was low as he watched Lance's eyes slide closed before he nuzzled into the pillow. Shiro's gaze fell from his face, peaceful and lax as sleep rushed to claim him, to the bandage on his arm. The stark white of that bandage, reddening with blood, was everything that was for them. Life was in the moment and the future was a luxury they could ill afford, but, as he watched the trials of the day melt away from his lover's features, he made a vow to himself that there _would_ be one for them. 

  



End file.
